


indivisible

by Pirateofantiva



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Angst, But light angst, Childhood, F/F, Fluff, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Mild Fluff, autistic!Holtzmann, holtz gets elected through even MORE unofficial means, i refuse to write a neurotypical holtz aint gonna happen, two in one night im on fire, yeah the bus got put back into drive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 10:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8159786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pirateofantiva/pseuds/Pirateofantiva
Summary: At eight years old, Holtzmann was absolutely certain of two things:1) Science was cooler than just about anything, and 2) she was going to be class president. (the story of how holtzmann gets elected class president, then and now)((based on the line from the deleted scenes))





	

**Author's Note:**

> ha ha why yes i did take a line intended to be comedic and made it angsty because of COURSE I DID. 
> 
> unedited! raw! authentic! bad grammar! that's right, another fic from me!
> 
> i really need to stop writing late at night. sorry guys. 
> 
> and no, this shit ain't EVER gonna get better. (quality wise, i mean) also, the title is a little constitution joke for the americans, lord knows we need a good laugh lately.

It was a quiet afternoon in New York, an opportunistic setting that both Erin and Holtzmann took advantage of. They lounged about on the second floor, Holtzmann lazily stripping wire for no particular reason other than it felt good on the palms of her hands. Erin, fascinated, was content to simply watch her. The radio was softly playing music, and Holtz occasionally hummed along to tunes Erin didn’t recognize. Erin didn’t even bother to hide the fact that she was staring at Holtzmann, something that appeared to not bother the other woman. As Holtzmann began to strip another length of wire, Erin broke the silence.

“Did you really run for class president? How did that even work?” Startled at the interruption, Holtz accidentally pressed too hard and clipped the wire in half. “Oops. Sorry Holtz.”

“No, that’s… it’s fine. I got like three hundred pounds of the stuff layin around. But, uh, to answer your question, I tried to. I may have… exaggerated when I said I won. It was less of a ‘they elected me’ and more of a ‘I elected myself.’” Holtz shifted uncomfortably, which did not go unnoticed by Erin.

“So you just decided to elect yourself? Why? Siblings weren’t into it?” Erin questioned, careful to gauge Holtz’s reaction so that she didn’t overstep.

“No, they weren’t. None of them particularly liked me. I think I was… a little too strange for them, honestly. That’s a trait that isn’t really well loved in the system.” Erin raised her eyebrows at Holtz’s last sentence, but upon glancing at Holtz’s stiff body language, decided not to pursue it.

“So what exactly happened, if you don’t mind me asking? I gotta say, I’m kinda intrigued by how exactly you self-elected yourself president.” Erin asked.

“It’s kind of a long story. And it’s not very happy. Or exciting. Lot less explosions than you’re used to in my stories. And no ghosts, which on its own is enough to render the story awful.” Holtz rambled quickly, a sign she was nervous, so Erin left her an out.

“That’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.” Erin smiled reassuringly, and Holtz raised her eyes to look at her.

“Actually, I kind of want to, now. It’s… I’ve never told anybody before.” Holtz said, quietly, searching for approval in Erin’s features.

“Well, Holtz, I’m all ears, if you want to tell me.” Erin tried to sound encouraging, and Holtz nodded.

“Okay. Well…”

 

At eight years old, Holtzmann was absolutely certain of two things:

1) Science was cooler than just about anything, and 2) she was going to be class president.

She ran through her house, small feet thundering down hallways and up staircases, wildly taping her posters to the walls she passed. Her small hands smacked the paper against the door of her kitchen, her short arms able to reach only halfway up. The poster sagged slightly, where Holtz couldn’t reach, but she beamed up brightly at it anyway, excited. She raced back to her room, eagerly cutting out ballot slips she had drawn in crayon.

The door to her room flew open, and Holtzmann shrieked at the noise. Her brother angrily stepped into the room, brandishing one of the posters she had put up.

“What the hell is this, Jillian? Class president? Really?” He sneered, mocking her, and Holtz curled away. “This isn’t a school, idiot. God, what the fuck is wrong with you? No wonder no one wants you. You’re always doing weird shit like this. Kids your age don’t do this.” Holtzmann had her hands over her ears, her foster brother’s voice uncomfortably grating. “There you go again. God.” He turned away, balling up the poster and throwing it back into the room.

Holtzmann waited until she couldn’t hear him anymore before removing her hands. She hummed distressingly, blinking harshly, as she smoothed out the poster. Her eyes welled with tears as she looked at the crumples and rips, obscuring her drawings and crooked lettering. Holtzmann rubbed her eyes furiously, before shoving the poster in the ballot box she was making, and pushing it all under her bed. She gathered up some of the things she was tinkering with, and comforted herself by running her fingertips along the grooves and edges of a gear.

She decided she won anyway.

 

 

Holtz finished speaking, looking down at her wire. Erin was quiet where she sat, expressionless, and Holtz wasn’t sure what to make of it.

“So, uh, yeah. That’s it. It’s fine, though. I mean, it wasn’t great, but my brother was always like that. I got over it, though, so it wasn’t l-“ Holtz abruptly stopped speaking when Erin rose her gaze and met Holtz’s eyes, with an intensity that Holtz struggled to understand. “But, yeah, I-“

“Holtz?”

“Uh, yeah?” Holtzmann replied nervously, voice uncertain.

“I’ll be back in ten minutes, okay?” Erin spoke flatly, still expressionless, and Holtz swallowed roughly.

“Sure, okay.”

Erin stood up and left, walking stiffly down the stairs. Confused, Holtzmann turned back to her wire, resuming her work. She worried that maybe she scared Erin off, but she thought that out of everyone Erin would understand, and- Holtz shook her head, snapping herself out of her spiral. It was fine. Erin had seen her at worse. Whatever it was, Holtz was sure it would be okay.

 

Erin returned almost exactly ten minutes later, a small box tucked under her arm, mostly obscured. Holtz rose questioningly to her feet, intending to ask about the box, but Erin spoke before she got the chance.

“Come up to the roof with me, would you?” Erin asked, sounding almost hesitant, but relaxed when Holtz nodded, still confused. “Can I take your hand?” Again, Holtz nodded, and allowed Erin to grab her hand softly. She gently tugged them both in the direction of the stairs, and they climbed up to the roof.

 

Holtzmann blinked when they stepped outside as her eyes adjusted to the sun, and when she could finally see she noticed Erin standing timidly in front of her. She had her hand out, and Holtz glanced down to see the box had the words “cast your ballot” written on the side in Erin’s familiar scrawl.

“What do you say, Holtz? Want to finally do this constitutionally?” Erin gave her a nervous smile, and Holtz felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. She ran a finger along the side of the box, tracing the words Erin had written, and suddenly, inexplicably, she started laughing. She wasn’t sure if it was the right response; maybe she should be crying, or upset, or something other than delighted, but it’s _Erin_. Sweet, awkward, Erin, who somehow always just _knew._

And so she laughed, because it was ridiculous, and Erin was smiling, and Holtz couldn’t stop staring at her, at this wonderful woman who could parse her code. Erin brandished the shoe box, both of them grinning wildly, and she made a huge show of counting out the two votes, before exclaiming, in a semi-serious newscaster voice, that Holtz won by a “landslide.” She raised her arm, and the two votes floated away as they were caught by the warm breeze, drifting off the rooftop, to some faraway street corner, to some faraway person. Holtzmann watched them go, something warm and tangible tangling in her chest, and then snatched Erin up into a hug, and suddenly she was crying, and she didn’t really know why, but she spun Erin around and around the roof, and Erin gripped her tightly back, and god, Holtz thought; _I’m in love. I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love._ And when Erin breathlessly rested her forehead against Holtz’s, Holtz thought; _she’s in love, she’s in love, she’s in love._

The box rested beside the both of them, empty, unremarkable; the two slips of paper drifted lazily in the wind, ambling onward. But Erin and Holtzmann failed to notice them, failed to notice anything at all, completely and utterly lost in each other.

_We’re in love, we’re in love, we’re in love._


End file.
